Twentytwo and Thirtyeight
by the-arbitrary
Summary: Waiting for the final court ruling, Tenma joins Dieter and Nina at Dr. Reichwein's house after his hearings.


"Come in," she heard him say and pressed the handle. He lay on the bed, still dressed, idly following a foreign movie. He had smiled up at her, but his expression changed when he saw her face.

"You okay?"

Without answering, she walked over to the bed and sat down at the very edge of it, careful not to touch his leg. He turned the TV off, puzzled but patient.

"Is it true?" she broke the silence in a strained voice. "Are you really thinking of joining the MSF?"

Tenma watched her closely, wondering at her reaction. "Yes."

"Why?"

"_Why?_" he repeated, nonplussed.

"What if you die?"

He laughed, feeling that the exaggeration somehow broke the tension -- but her serious expression – as though she had meant it – pulled him back. He sat up and moved next to her – thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, desperately wanting to put his arm around her but stopping himself.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Besides, you make it sound like I'm going to go get carpet bombed! It's generally not that exciting – it's mostly just poor and overpopulated. Lots of things to do, but not a lot of danger unless you look for that sort of thing." He nudged her with a smile. "And I've had enough of danger for a lifetime."

"And it's all my fault," she whispered, leaning forward. Her hair fell down from her shoulders, hiding her face from him.

"Hey," he grabbed her hand, shaking it. "Don't say that. Don't think that. Don't ever think that."

"But it's the truth!" Nina cried, finally looking up at him. He held her gaze, knowing that he could not minimize things anymore, not when she needed to come to terms with the mistaken guilt that she insisted on bearing.

"What if I told you that it was all worth it? Would you believe me?"

"Even if you really mean that, it's only because you've convinced yourself that it's true. I've... we've destroyed your life. You didn't ask for any of this. You were implicated without any choice in the matter."

"I had a choice," he said firmly. "I went after Johan on my own. I could have stayed in the hospital. I could have gone back to Japan. It was so easy... You'd think you'd have no mobility with the police out there looking for you, and I was paranoid for the longest time, but the truth is that there was always a way out. I chose, Nina."

She pulled her hand out of his and stood up. The proximity was killing her; his warmth, his dependability, his strength, it was all so fatherly, and that was the last thing she wanted from him.

"You don't believe me?"

She bit her lip as if trying to contain her words. "No, I believe you. Because that's the kind of man you are. And that _destroys_ me, because how can you be who you are, and how can I be who I am and not feel the way I feel?"

Tenma stared at her blankly, not so much taken aback as devastated. This was a line that had no crossing back.

"I've tried to forget about it, I've tried to tell myself that it was just silly hero worship, that I was just putting you on a pedestal because you saved my life, and risked your own life to save uncountable other lives... And you realize, saying that, it feels no pedestal is high enough to hold you. How can I not feel such immense debt and gratitude?"

"Don't say that --"

"No, _let me say it_. When else am I going to say it? When you leave? When you're on some other continent, risking your life for others yet again while I do nothing worthwhile with mine? How would you feel in my place?"

_I imagine the way I feel right now_, he thought wretchedly. Every fiber of him ached to reassure her of his love, and yet he restrained himself.

"Put yourself in my place," he said very carefully. "How could I do anything with you?"

"What if I told you I'd slept with someone even older?"

"You have?" he asked incredulously, uncomfortably conscious of how desperate and aggressive the question sounded even to his own ears.

"No, but see how it changes your perception? Look, I'm not asking for anything. I'm sorry I said anything. Just -- I'm sorry. I don't mean to tempt you or try to convince you or anything like that. I just felt like I needed to say it, and I'm sorry that it's going to change things now."

He numbly watched her walk to the door. Her hand seemed to hesitate on the handle, as though she was imploring him to stop her, but he said nothing. He came to his senses only when she was halfway down the hallway, her words playing at varying speeds in his head until something clicked and he bolted after her, grabbing her wrist as she took the fist step down the stairs.

There were tears in her eyes, and he wasn't sure anymore if he had brought her back because he wanted closure or because he had tacitly given in. Her sweet, minty breath came out fast and ragged and hit his lips. _Twenty_, he tried to tell himself. _Twenty_. _Twenty-two and thirty-eight_. She caught his eye as he shook his head to himself and smiled in that sad, exhausted way that she had learned from him. Out of respect, she kept her distance even as he held her hand, unconsciously pulling her closer.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Tenma traced his finger along her jaw, lifting her chin up a bit. Nervously, she looked up, afraid and hopeful.

"_I_'m sorry," he said. "I should know better. And I shouldn't feel this way. But I do."

Her gaze fell from his eyes to his lips. She rarely thought about how beautiful he was – she worshiped him with every inch of her being, but she got to see him so rarely that his face often became a blur in her mind. But up close, centimeters away, she took in everything and felt a new surge of longing. He saw the color rising in her cheeks and pushed forward; their foreheads met, their breath clashed, the heat of each other's lips feverish and unbearable. _How can I want this?_ he asked himself, but he did want it, and wanted it far too violently to back down.

She accepted his kiss hungrily. Gratefully. He ran his fingers up her arms and along her shoulders, stopping in her hair, pulling her closer and closer and closer, conscious that she could never be close enough. Her cold, stiff hands found their way to his own face – her thumbs caressed his cheekbones, exploring, learning, trying to memorize with her fingertips the features that her eyes so easily forgot.

His hands left her face and took her by the waist. If he closed his eyes, he could forget that she was a girl. _This is woman-flesh_, he told himself, _she is a woman, and you are a man, and there is nothing wrong with this_. _There is nothing wrong in a man wanting a woman_. But deep down he knew that he did not want her because she was a woman, but because she was herself, Nina, Anna, the girl with the gun who fired a bullet into a monster's brain and irrevocably changed his life. He loved her for her fearful courage, for the way she never let him shoot and quit his innocence, for her unbounded forgiveness, and the faltering, tragic resolution with which she moved forward, pulling the weight of her past behind. She was losing himself in his kiss as though it was her sole chance at peace with herself, and he knew, at once, that it had to end there.

"I can't do this," he said breathlessly, lifting his hands. "I'm sorry."

She looked at him, at the pained, conflicted, begging expression on his face. Part of her understood – part of her knew that she loved him precisely because he would reject her. She nodded and, leaving neither of them a chance to say anything further, she walked out, shutting the door after her.

***

She was not there in the morning. Dieter had helped Reichwein with breakfast, and Tenma ate gloomily, without appetite. The older man watched him carefully, noticing his polite but failed attempts at good humor, and sent Dieter to water the flowers as soon as the boy had finished eating.

"It's none of my business, you know, but I think you need to be told."

_I don't want to talk about this_, Tenma thought. He pushed the pieces of his omelette around the plate feeling like a child being lectured. He smiled at the irony.

"I know you're a man of principle. But sometimes you need to adjust your principles to other people and what they require of you. Nina needs you right now in a way that only you can provide."

Tenma cocked his head. He didn't look at Reichwein intensely, or even with much interest, but there was a weary resolution in his eyes that made the old doctor shut up.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "It's not my place. I just worry about her, that's all."

"I feel like I should be a father to her," Tenma said softly. "I feel like she's relied on me in that manner, and for me to... to alter the nature of that relationship, especially when she's in such a fragile, volatile condition... She'd hate me for it later."

"Why do you think that?" Reichwein asked and bit his lip immediately, sorry that it came out so perfunctory and clichéd right after Tenma decided to trust him enough to talk.

"She's so vulnerable right now. I want -- that is, if I did anything -- I would want to know that it is truly something she wants, and not me abusing her loneliness and vulnerability."

"But her vulnerability is exactly why she needs you more than ever. You might think you're betraying her or taking advantage of her, but what she sees as the true betrayal is that you don't understand how much – and in what way – she needs you right now."

Tenma shook his head. The egg in his mouth tasted cold and disgusting. He swallowed.

"I can't. I just can't."

***

Reichwein was right, but it was exactly that need that he spoke of that terrified him and convinced him that staying away was the right thing to do. He did not want to be anyone's panacea, and he felt that, in any case, such a one-sided act would be a very fatherly thing to do. The only thing that could convince him that being with Nina at this moment was not wrong was reciprocity – and that was something that she in her despair, in her trust that bordered on dependence, could not give him.

He spent the day nervous and pacing, uncomfortable with Nina's strange absence. A neighbor had seen her leave a little after sunrise – she wore training pants and a large sweatshirt, and ran westward at full speed. Tenma lay down on the couch feeling suffocated with uselessness; he had to wait for the court's final ruling to be allowed to leave the country, and although the stay at Reichwein's was supposed to make things more pleasant for everyone, he missed work intensely. His lawyer had called to touch base even though it was Saturday – he should be acquitted at the next appointed court date – and Tenma thanked him, feeling a little less caged.

It was only after he withdrew to his room after supper that Nina reappeared, salty with sweat, her hair coming loose from the low ponytail. They had left a small pot of food for her in the kitchen, covered with her favorite polka-dot lid, but she ignored it: if she was hungry, she had not felt it. She went straight upstairs and knocked on his door, entering before he could reply.

"I behaved very stupidly yesterday," she said before he could get a word in. "And today. But I don't want to avoid you because of what happened. I can't help how I feel, but I can control myself, and I wish to remain in your life even when you've gone off to wherever it is that you need to go."

She spoke with her head lowered; she didn't see him get off his bed and walk silently over the thick carpet to face her. His arms closed around her – he kissed the top of her head, and pressed her face against his chest. His shirt grew wet where her eyes were.

They stood in their silent embrace for a long time. He only moved in soft caresses; she only moved to tighten her grip when she felt it become weaker. His lips remained on her hair with the patience of a saint. She cried until she could cry no more, and then she let him lead her to his bed where they lay down intertwined. _Like dead lovers_, she thought. But she felt the smell of his skin and the warmth of his flesh and she smiled, faintly, knowing that she had ceased to be his past -- and, maybe, she could be his future.


End file.
